


You've Gotta Stop Holding Me the Way You Do

by soclose



Series: If I'm Not the One for You.... [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AH YES, Aftercare, Dom Clarke, F/F, Forced Orgasm, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Light Dom/sub, Multiple Orgasms, Pining, Smut, Sub Lexa, Unrequited Love, but on the light side of that, hitachi play, lexa is in love with her dom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 17:22:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10667301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soclose/pseuds/soclose
Summary: Clarke drives Lexa wild with some hitachi play. Lexa is a big gay sap about it.





	You've Gotta Stop Holding Me the Way You Do

**Author's Note:**

> This will be part of a series of one-shots from a FWB d/s Clexa verse where Clarke dominates sweet baby Lexa and Lexa is a giant gay who's head over heels in love with her. Feel free to follow for updates! 
> 
> All errors are my own because I'm a lazy piece of shit and don't have a beta. 
> 
> Please leave kudos/comments/etc, I'm a giant validation whore. Additional love can be shown to my tumblr, @trashbb.
> 
> Thanks for reading. :)

Clarke is going to be the death of her.

Fingertips digging into her fleshy thighs, Lexa scrambles to find a hold and ground herself. The feet tucked under her knees keep her legs spread wide, exposed. She’s bared to Clarke and the arm wrapped across her collarbone teases pressure at the base of her throat.

Clarke’s thumb flicks the switch and the wand hums to life, filling the room with its promising buzz. Gooseflesh peppers her thighs, her heartbeat racing, and arousal swirls thick in the belly to settle heavy in the depths of her hipbones.

It’s embarrassing, really, how much she likes finding herself held at Clarke’s whim. Yet no matter how much her cheeks burn and her chest flushes, the weekend comes and she finds herself back underneath Clarke’s beautiful hands.

“You’re gonna love this, Lexa,” Clarke says, lips ghosting against the shell of her ear. Lexa turns into it, leans into the soft press of lips at her pulse point as Clarke works down the length of her neck. “I’m gonna make you come so hard….”

Lexa’s hands come up, wrapping around Clarke’s arm as the wand nears the inside of her knee. It’s on low, she knows, Clarke promised, but the heavy vibration seems impossibly intense as it nears her skin. Already her nerve endings stand at attention, her body a buzz of static and need, but nothing can prepare her for the jolt of electricity that sings up her bones as the white head settles softly against the inside of her thigh.

“Oh!” she gasps, twitching in Clarke’s arms as she jerks away from the startling sensation. But Clarke’s hold on her only locks, calves tugging Lexa’s legs further apart as her arm threatens at the base of her throat.

“Hold still and be good a good girl,” Clarke whispers, wand crawling up the inside of her thigh as she squirms, struggling under the intensity of the sensation. “It feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Clarke,” she chokes, desperate, hips bucking as the wand rounds the curve of her inner thigh to sit just inches from its goal.

Clarke wields the toy to the crease of her hip, threatening. Everything is on fire, buzzing loud as her heartbeat and Lexa’s drowning under the promise of it, under the promise of pleasure and not enough and too much and Clarke….

Clarke.

Clarke is going to be the death of her.

Teasing over the top of her pubic bone and down over neatly trimmed curls, Clarke’s grip tightens around her chest as Lexa jerks, muscles tensing under the strain and vibration.

“Clarke!” Her voice cracks, throat closing as Clarke ghosts the wand over her clit. Her entire body buzzes, Clarke dipping lower to slide the toy down her flesh and gather her arousal.

“That’s my good girl,” Clarke coos in her ear, supporting her as Lexa arches against her.

Her muscles are coiling, heat flooding her lower belly as Clarke teases her, pulls her to the top of the cliff just to dangle her from the edge. Clarke holds the vibrator relentlessly against her clit, working small circles of the sweetest torture while Lexa’s body trembles and shakes.

“It’s too much ------” she gasps, fingers splaying out to twist handfuls of the cotton sheets in her grip.

It’s too much, too much, all sharp and heady and coming at her with the power of a freight train. It’s too much, too quick, and she’s not ready, it’s not enough and oh god, please, Clarke, please --.

“It’s not,” Clarke disagrees, breath teasing the shell of her ear. “Just let go, Lexa. Be a good girl and come for me.”

With her permission granted, the tension in Lexa’s belly snaps like a taut wire, unwinding her into chaos and oblivion as her spine arches against Clarke. Her body stills at the peak of it, leaning against Clarke before she shatters, a writhing mess. Her eyes clamp shut until starshine bursts behind them, white glitter peppering her world into static noise of pleasure and oh god and Clarke please, more….

She’s certain she’s going to burst, the pleasure bordering on pain and she’s doing her best to jerk away when Clarke finally eases up, giving her only the slightest of reprieve as she returns the vibrator to tracing soft circles around the wet curls on her lips.

“And just think -- we’re only getting started, babe.”

Lexa’s swallow catches in the back of her throat, muscles forcing it down as she struggles to breathe. How many times can Clarke make her come with the force of a lightning bolt before she collapses? How many times can her muscles string themselves so tight without snapping?

At least twice, she has the second to think, before Clarke’s hand lowers from her collarbone to pinch at an aching, pebbled nipple. With a moan that sounds nothing like the whine it feels like, Lexa arches into the touch, rolling her abs and her hipbones as Clarke’s fingers travel downward, removing the vibrator to tease at her curls and dip down into her sensitive skin.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.” Clarke’s voice holds her awe, and Lexa can’t help but watch as Clarke runs two fingers from bottom to top, collecting the silky evidence of her arousal and letting it string from her fingers to Lexa’s clit. “I wonder how much we can stain the sheets before I’m finally through with you.”

With a groan, Lexa’s head rolls back, pillowing on Clarke’s shoulders as she blonde teases her. From their very first time, Clarke had discovered how much her obscene words affected Lexa, how they made her blush and hot in the same breath. Whispering dirty promises into the skin just below her ear, Clarke dips her soaking fingers inside of Lexa, ripping a moan from her throat as those beautiful fingers push inside her throbbing, swollen flesh.

When she brings back the vibrator, it’s not what Lexa expects; Clarke is two knuckles deep and sliding in on the third when she touches the wand to the back of her own hand. Setting those fingers to vibrate deep inside her, Lexa gasps as she feels Clarke curl them, tugging forward on that familiar spot. The added sensation of buzzing turns pleasure into ecstasy, turns her breath into heavy drags that burn when she sits still too long under the sweet torture and forgets to answer her body’s basic need.

There’s no chance of her surviving survive Clarke’s thumb as it swirls around the swollen bead of her clit.

Her hands rip forward, grasping at Clarke’s wrist and nearly begging her to relent. There’s a mumble on her lips and her nails against Clarke’s skin, but a sharp pair of teeth latch at the junction of her shoulder and neck and she gasps, hands jerking away as the warning burns into her skin.

“What’s your color, Lex?” rumbles in her ear, but that thumb never pulls away, and before she has a chance to contemplate her answer, her body is clenching, tugging and pulling on Clarke’s fingers and it’s not quite as intense this time, but it only lets her shudder longer, gives Clarke the chance to draw it out as she milks every last clench from Lexa’s gasping body.

“I’d like to assume that means green,” Clarke says, softer this time, pressing a kiss to Lexa’s cheekbone before she continues, “but I need to hear your color, Lexa.”

Clarke pulls the vibrator away from her skin, but Lexa’s muscles still flutter around her fingers.

There’s a minute of grasping, a minute of deep breaths while she tries to let her body keep up with the onslaught. “-------Green,” she finally manages, swallowing thick around her dry throat. “I’m…. green. ‘S good.”

Slowly, Clarke pulls her fingers out, trailing them up to run comforting lines across Lexa’s lower abdomen. She smears the evidence of Lexa’s enjoyment across her skin, painting her body in transparent, silky lines.

Lexa lies boneless in Clarke’s arms. How is it possible to be so spent and wanting more in the same breath?

“I’m going to put this back on your clit,” Clarke tells her, hand splaying firm across Lexa’s pelvis to keep her in place as the wand draws back up her thigh.

Lexa whines, the sound high and tired but her thighs part as Clarke works the vibrator up her leg.

“I’m going to hold it there and rub little circles until you come for me,” Clarke continues. “But this time, I’m not gonna stop. I’m gonna keep going and going until you think you can’t come anymore, and then when you think you’re all done, you’re still gonna give me another. Understood?”

Teeth clamped around her lower lip, Lexa shivers under the weight of Clarke’s words. She nods her head dutifully, even managing to gasp out a, “yes, Clarke,” when Clarke’s hand tightens down around her hips.

“Good girl,” she murmurs, and as the wand returns to her skin, Lexa’s lost to a world of giving and taking, of Clarke demanding her pleasure and Lexa offering it up as sacrifice.

She loses track of the number by the time they start to blur together, when every ending becomes just another beginning and even Clarke’s grip can’t hold down the force of her body’s shaking. Even the tips of her toes tremble with the wash of her pleasure, and she doesn’t quite remember moaning, but her throat is dry and searing by the time her hips jerk and nudge away from the wand with their sharpest effort.

“Clarke, please------” she begs, shameless, hands clenching around Clarke’s arm where she holds the toy. She forces herself to swallow when her efforts earn her a moment of rest, using the clarity to force out, “please. I can’t, I can’t, it’s too much, please. No more….”

Clarke’s free hand reaches up, brushing a sweaty curl back from Lexa’s temple. “What did I tell you?” she asks, too sweet, still circling the vibrator while Lexa trembles in her arms. “Until you don’t think you can; and then I want one more.”

There’s no misnaming the whimper that breaks from her lips. She’s desperate, sweaty and still twitching as her nails dig crescent moons into the soft flesh of Clarke’s wrist. One more, oh god, she wants one more. “I can’t….”

“Yes, you can,” Clarke coaxes, hand coming to pry Lexa’s fingers free and interlace them in her own. “You can give me one more. Just one, Lexa.”

She flushes under her waning willpower, under the way she lets Clarke take hold of her hand and press the vibrator back to the inside of her thigh.

Her muscles are burning, sure to be felt in the morning, but how can she say no when Clarke brushes those sweet, beautiful lips down the line of her throat? How she can pull her safe words when her muscles clench around the idea of giving Clarke what she wants, of surrendering her body to Clarke’s demands even beyond the desires of her own?

“Just one?” she asks, quiet

“Just one more, baby.”

Her head dips down, traitorous, eager as it seals her fate. She feels Clarke tug their joined hands downward, using their fingers to pry her lips apart and expose her throbbing flesh to the cool air of the room. Even that is enough to make her shiver, her own fingers being used to aid in Clarke’s quest, before the wand comes closer and Lexa swears she can feel it starting before the white tip ever makes contact.

“Clarke --! “

Her name is ripped past her vocal cords as Clarke presses the wand against her, the spread position now mainlining the sensation directly to her clit. Throbbing in time with her racing heart, every touch vibrates down to her bones, lights her insides on fire and has her muscles clenching before she even has the chance to want it.

“Oh, fuck!”

Her breath shudders, muscles rolling as Clarke drags her higher, winds her body like a roller coaster up the first big hill. Her free fall is just as inevitable, that stomach-dropping whoosh slipping in as she surrenders herself to Clarke’s will, to her touch.

“That’s my good girl, you’re doing so well,” Clarke praises, and that’s all it takes for Lexa’s face to screw up, her eyes to slam closed and her hips to leave the bed. Distantly, she’s aware that Clarke’s murmuring has no end, that she talks her through the blinding white power that takes over her oversensitive body and brings her back down with soft hands kneading the trembling muscles at the tops of her thighs.

“That’s it, baby,” she hears Clarke say once her eardrums clear themselves of her ragged breath, her pounding heartbeat. She doesn’t know when Clarke turned the vibrator off, but the resounding silence is almost deafening. “Nice deep breaths for me. We’re all done. You did so good.”

She stretches her legs as Clarke releases them, softly kicking out the tension in her knees before she turns to tuck her face into the crook of Clarke’s neck. She’s shaking, breath turned choppy and fast against Clarke’s steady pulse, but Clarke moves them to laying, warm hands coming up to embrace her and she softens into the hold.

Tears prick at the back of her eyelids and she swallows. Jesus, Lexa, there’s no need for this. Pull it together. She staunchly refuses to let them fall, but she wants to, feels the tremble inside her belly that expands with every breath.

Clarke’s lip press to Lexa’s cheekbone, thumb tracing an absent pattern up and down her back. Lexa buries her face in Clarke’s neck and breathes deep, palms flat against Clarke’s shoulder blades as she does her best to keep her close.

“You were beautiful, Lexa,” Clarke murmurs to her, continuing her trail of kisses down her jaw to land at her pulse. “Such a good girl for me….”

Lexa’s chest warms at the praise, at the way Clarke’s fingers tuck a stray curl behind her ear with such care, as if she’s fragile. As if she’s something precious.

Clarke is always soft with her after their sessions, likes to scoop her up and hold her close and kiss her hair until Lexa’s breathing returns to normal and her body calms down from its sex-induced high. It’s aftercare, Clarke calls it, and Lexa did her research – she knows it’s an important part of their play. She knows it keeps Lexa’s endorphins from dropping too quickly and sending her into a spiral, helps to level out her hormones before she goes back off into the real world and breaks the rose-colored bubble that surrounds the two of them in this place.

But there’s a part of Lexa, a part she does her best to keep buried way, way down, that wishes it were more. She wishes the kisses were more than just necessary, wishes that the cuddling was more than just routine. Because no matter how no strings attached Clarke thinks they may have started, Lexa is a dirty, awful liar and she’s tripping over her own strings even as she’s laying still.

Guilt worming itself into the blank spaces between her ribs, Lexa lets out a sigh. It’s going to be another long night….

“You doing okay?” Clarke asks, pulling back far enough to make eye contact.

Lexa nods, eyelids heavy and blinking. “I’m just tired,” she says, and the guilt winds around her heart, squeezes tightly. Rule number one – you can’t lie to me when we’re in a scene, Lexa. We need to be honest or this can’t work.

Clarke watches her for too long, eyes scanning her face as if she knows, but Clarke is too trusting to doubt her (or at least to call her out on it) and Lexa lets out another breath when Clarke nods in acceptance.

“I’ve got some Gatorade in the pantry, you should take one before you leave,” she says. “Make sure you’re hydrated.”

Lexa nods. Of course, hydration is her number one priority when she’s slipping out her dom’s house in the middle of night to return home to cold, empty bed. "What about you?" she asks, nodding to the untouched woman in front of her.

"Don't worry about me," Clarke assures her with a kiss to her cheek. "Tonight was all about you."

“I should get going anyway,” Lexa says, stretching her limbs as an excuse to put some space between them. “I’ve got to be up early to work on a motion for class tomorrow….”

It’s not a lie, it’s just… an excuse. A reason. Yes, of course.

“Okay,” Clarke says, releasing her hold. She places one last kiss on the edge of her cheek before rolling away, and Lexa doesn’t bother with clean up as she reaches for her panties on the floor. She’ll drown her feelings in a too-hot shower when she gets home anyways, wrap herself up in her softest pajamas and pretend they can make up for the warmth of a woman’s loving arms.

“Text me when you get home?” Clarke asks, like she always does.

“Of course,” Lexa replies, reaching behind her to clasp her bra before tugging on her tee shirt. In a matter of minutes, she’s dressed, tugging her hands through the wild mess of her hair before pulling it back into a bun, letting her keys jangle as she pulls them off Clarke’s kitchen counter.

A bottle of blue Gatorade is pressed firmly into her palm.

“Drink that,” Clarke tells her, her last order of the evening. “I’ll see you next weekend?”

“Yes,” Lexa confirms, and it feels masochistic. “Good luck with your rotation this week.”

Clarke’s smile splits wide, brilliant. “Thanks! It should be way more exciting than GI. Digestion is cool and all, but babies are way better.”

“You’ll be great at it,” Lexa assures her. “You’ll have to let me know how it goes.”

“I’ll text you,” Clarke promises, moving to open her front door to see Lexa out. She leans in, brushes a soft kiss at the corner of her lips. “Drive safe, okay?”

“Always do,” Lexa says, pulling her lips into half of a smile. She takes the first step down out Clarke’s front door, putting more space between her heart and the source of its beating. God Lexa, could you be any more gay and obvious?? “Goodnight, Clarke.”

And like always, soft, but never enough, Clarke whispers back to her, “goodnight, Lexa.”

Clarke Griffin is most definitely going to be the death of her.


End file.
